Five Minutes
by VoiDreamer
Summary: "No murder?" Moriarty asks in mock surprise. They share a smile through the glass. "No, nothing so pedestrian." Eurus says softly, "We need to burn the heart out of him, my dear." How five minutes changed everything. A Eurus & Moriarty musing. (Mention of Sherlock/Molly)


AN: A little brainworm that I could not resist. I hope you enjoy!

~Voi

* * *

 **00:01  
**

Eurus wishes she could say that he is precisely as she expected, but perhaps it is better that he is not. His physicality, she admits, is more compelling than she anticipated; but it is not why she has summoned him in the first place.

Rather it is his mind, his _cunning_ and on that score he is perfect.

Well, not _perfect_ , but he fits her needs better than most. His crimes have proven him to have the ideal skill set, more useful to her than the half-strung puppets she plays with here in Sherrinford. And she needs an ally more than she needs just another little machine.

"I'm your Christmas present," he croons as he saunters forward, darkness and chaos swirling at his heels, "What's mine?"

She smiles,"Redbeard."

 **00:02**

She says the name and watches as his eyes brighten.

He's a smart enough man, so she leaves him to make his own discoveries _later_.

But she wants to do more than just play with Sherlock, she wants to discover just where his tender heart has gone, where he has hidden it.

And to do that she will need an ally who can stitch together a trail compelling enough for her brother to follow.

All the details she can remember of their childhood, everything she recalls of Mycroft and Sherlock both, they become her gifts to him.

After that she gives him other details, other little strings, knowing that with each little hint Moriarty will work to unraveled little pieces her brother has dangling around him.

She knows she's made the right choice when he, when _Jim_ , wonders aloud if Sherlock would mind meeting for the first time at a swimming pool.

 **00:03**

Eurus thinks she likes him.

If she were capable of more, she supposes she would have gifted it to him as well. But for now, she'll settle for the sort of pleasure one has from meeting another of formidable likeness, one that proves its value at its first test.

Jim is elegant that way, quick to observe the game and understand what it means for all the little pieces on the board, even himself.

He will play his game, and then he will play hers. And if it means he must die, then that is just the way of things.

Eurus knows this would have bothered most, but for Jim the end is just another crucial piece of the play, just as exciting, as _important_. And there is a sort of relish in his voice when he speaks of what will happen after, what he can do to play the game even after his body has lost its usefulness to her.

And so they concoct their grand waltz, smiling together as they imagine all the ways Sherlock will dance to their tune.

 **00:04**

She thinks she's finished with him after the fourth minute, that they've planned all they needed. But right before she dismisses him, he gifts her with a final secret, a name.

"Molly Hooper?" She asks, tasting that deliciously innocent little detail with her tongue.

"Yes." Moriarty smiles, and this time the expression reaches those dark devil's eyes, "The pathologist."

She misses none of his subtlety.

"Save her for me." She says, and it's an order, not a question.

"No murder?" Jim asks in mock surprise.

They share a smile through the glass.

"Nothing so pedestrian." Eurus says softly, "We need to burn the heart out of him, my dear."

"I see." He smiles, hums in agreement, "But first we need him to hold that heart a little more closely?"

"Precisely." She strokes the glass with a finger. "Make him realize how important she _really_ is. I'll handle the rest later."

"You want me to add this to our plans for the year?" Jim asks, "I'll be _very_ busy."

"Naturally," Eurus sighs, "It is the holiday season."

 **00:05**

"Have a very happy holiday." She says as the final minute ticks away.

The words are said more out of habit than true affection, but just as before she feels an echo of what that sentiment might be like.

"You're so sweet." He smiles, fingering the glasses in his pocket and tapping them in the pattern they know will distract poor Sherlock, "I've had the _very_ _best_ time."

"I'm glad." She says, and then falls silent, her mind already miles away, years ahead to where their path will ultimately lead her dear brother.

"Should I send you a card next year?" Jim asks, as the door opens and two guards step out, ready to take him back.

"No need." She says with a small smile, "I'll meet you for coffee. Does the café under Sherlock's flat sound good to you?"

Jim Moriarty grins, "It sounds absolutely perfect. I'll see you there at noon."


End file.
